


Chain-Linked Biology

by giwp



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Implied/Referenced Masturbation, M/M, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3575865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giwp/pseuds/giwp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharing textbooks with a total stranger with the same taste in jokes and gender could only be innocent for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chain-Linked Biology

_“She talks for like 15 minutes about how we’re watching an informational documentary and not animal porn”_

Marco snickers into the sleeve of his hoodie – muffling the noise to avoid any weird looks the girl that sits in front of him might send back at him. No need to get on anyone’s bad side in the middle of the semester. Especially when it concerned AP Biology where everyone pretty much had the same classes the entire semester. Everyone was going about getting settled in their seats, empty milk cartons and water bottles splayed across the scratched up black tables that you could only find in the science building as everyone grabbed their assigned textbooks and got to their seats waiting for class to start. Most of them were on cell phones – talking to friends they’d just left after lunch hour and not giving much care to anyone other than their friends huddled around them.

Marco didn’t have any of his friends near his table. Armin was assigned to a seat all the way across the room which was stupid in and of itself considering Arlert and Bodt were fairly close in the alphabet. But this teacher apparently went off of her own style of seating arrangement and then meant a large group of student body kids separated Marco from the only friendly connection he had in the class.

Besides the pages of handwritten notes of course.

The AP classes were set up for those that had Biology before and after the lunch break. Due to the rising interest in biology (because of the rising fact that jobs after school were a bitch to find which meant college would be a necessity which also meant a stable degree path which meant nursing school) Marco got placed in the after-lunch section of the class. He’d wanted to get the class over with before that sluggish slump of after-meal tiredness hit but alas that’s not how anything worked. In return, though, he got a bit of a bonus. The fact that the person who used the same textbook as him had a certain habit of writing their own commentary in the margins and giving help in finding the answers to the questions the teacher was sure to ask in class was a welcomed tradeoff.

Marco flips through the small amount of pages that his bookmate has written in finding just the few scribbles they’d left in response to Marco’s comments. Marco tended to move ahead of lectures when time allowed it and the teacher went off on tangents. He also loved the opportunity to start conversations in the worn pages where he’d only have to wait about 24 hours for a response.  The other person had left multiple little bits and pieces of jokes he remembered from elementary school playgrounds along with actual notes that pertained to class. In places where Marco had said the few conversational words, there were responses that always made him smile.

“why does Hanji always clap her erasers right outside the door?”

_“too cause a mass panic and kill the weak”_

“that’s pretty dramatic”

_“I’m pretty dramatic so it’s fitting”_

He’d asked himself numerous times if maybe sliding in his phone number between the words about photosynthesis and reproduction would be a good idea or create a horrible mess and on more than one occasion he’d caught himself with a pen hovering over an empty corner almost writing down those ten digits. But no amount of thinking that it would make life easier if he could get direct replies straight from the source themselves right to his phone would allow Marco to do that. It wasn’t like he was alone; he didn’t need a person to text like the other cellular drones sitting around him.

It was a dumb idea, anyway. The person went to his high school and was obviously in his year considering AP Biology was only offered to graduating seniors so it wouldn’t be so difficult to find out who the stranger with the vibrant blue pen was.

For now Marco left himself to flipping over well-worn pages – letting the smell of old plastic and drying ink suffocate his senses as old conversations filled his head.

“I ran into the ol’ flame on Saturday”

_“I hope you set him aflame”_

“mentally I did yes”

_“perfect. you’re the type to deserve better oh biology wizard”_

_“;P”_

\--

“volunteers for chapter questions will be requested”

_“did #1 on the board. she loves me”_

_“don’t tell her husband moby dick”_

“*MOBLIT*OMG”

_“sure sure. not interested in girls anyway”_

“sounds pretty gay”

_“well duh”_

The sounds of everyone around him quietened only slightly as the teacher walked into the room from the back door halls. All the science rooms were connected by the back room that held all of the extra equipment for experiments and research and months of helping Ms. Hanji out with setting up for their class or for the 9th grade Biology kids meant Marco knew exactly the freaky shit that has entered that room. From dead cats to stacks of cut open frogs parts. He’s seen it all and then some (see: Levi and Mr. Smith and the close encounters of the vomit-inducing kind).

He’d also gotten oddly close to the teacher herself which meant that even though Armin sat all the way across the room, Marco was free to barely even pay attention to her out-of-the-book lectures and to give the least amount of participation a straight-A student has probably ever given in the history of her class. She never seemed to care during those days when Armin would sidle over from his seat at one of the lab stations to sit in the empty space next to Marco to distract him from whatever was written in the margins that day. Armin was usually good with making sure that Marco paid attention to lectures at least half of the days they had left in high school.

And the little help from mystery student with textbook #17 also helped in the whole staying studied and educated aspect of being in the class. The little notes that were left in the corners had been the best thing ever on the days where Marco’s head was sure up his ass and out of it and Marco thanked every god out there that he was able to share a book with a nerd that actually tried to pay attention and make lectures more enjoyable.

_“it’s boring but memorize the structure so you know it for the essay section”_

Class starts at some point and Marco pulls out his notebook, intent on making today the day that he focuses on the words dribbling out of Ms. Hanji’s mouth and not on the stupid jokes scribbled on the sides of the text’s pages. He follows the lecture, book right by his side just like everyone else, flipping the pages with everyone else like they’re all an automatic machine shipped onto a conveyer belt. All of it is monotonous and the quick glances down at the blue pen markings reminds Marco that he really needs to pay attention to the lecture because according to the little note on page 346 _“this shit is GONNA be on the midterm”_ and there was no way that Marco would miss an easy A.

He jots down little things into the next chapter. Letting the textbook stranger know the secrets of after-lunch sectionals.

“she mentioned a pop quiz next week and said not to tell your class lol”

The class drones on for a majority of the 90 minute time slot the district allows Ms. Hanji to talk about Biology in a single day. There isn’t much disturbance in the class, a quick joke that gets zero laughs and a disgruntled shrug from the teacher and a dry cough attack from one of the student body vice presidents being the only disruptions that hit the class in any sense of the word hard. It isn’t until their on the last few pages of the lecture, where major points are being wrapped up and concluded and everyone’s on their way to packing up their things that makes Marco choke on the spit in his throat.

He spazzes out for a good 30 seconds as everyone watches him flop around in his seat trying to catch his bearings and keep from dribbling spit onto the textbook in front of him. Once he’s found his breath and everyone’s turned their attention back to a bewildered Hanji whose given a wave saying “I’m totally fine no worries”, Marco turns back down to the book, his head nearly snapping off his spine as he stares down at the etched corners.

_“so what the hell is your name stranger??”_

It’s written in pencil this time but the curve of the letters and the way the y’s swirl at the ends are so similar Marco doesn’t doubt it’s the same person writing back at him and not some sick joke from one of the freshmen snooping into the senior’s class textbooks. Marco doesn’t know if he should even answer the question. Maybe he can redirect the question back and see if he can get a name before he gives up his identity. But then that would mean having to wait an entire day for a response and a response that might not even be what he wants to hear. Whoever this person is could just round it back on him and claim that they asked first and deserved an answer before Marco if he wanted to pay back for all the times Marco has used his little class notes to help him study for exams and quizzes.

But where the heck did the sudden urge to get rid of anonymity come from? Why all of a sudden did names come into play at the middle of their final term at Trost High School? Maybe the kid was lonely and assumed that Marco must be as well to be spending class time doodling in the pages of a textbook. And he wouldn’t be wrong on that part. But still. Marco really needed to know who this new friend of his even was and this was his chance in finding out so grabbing the pencil that had rolled off of his half-filled notebook he dragged the book closer to his chest and scribbled down a quick name just as the bell rang for class to end.

Marco near slammed his text shut, everyone around him taking is as a reaction for his earlier near-death experience with his own spit, and throwing his school supplies into his old black backpack he ran out the door making sure to toss the textbook in the pile on the back lab station where they were kept.

Why did he do that?

Why was there so much regret at scribbling a simple name down when there was a chance that the person on the receiving end wouldn’t even believe that that was his name. The person had asked for a name and Marco had graced him with an answer and whether their conversations continued or not was to be a result given out later. Like a day later. Marco will find out whether he just killed the whole affair in a day’s time. And there were actually a couple of Marco’s at their school as surprising as that seems in present day 2015 but the idea that this person would have to filter through a couple of people to find him soothed him just a bit. He had time to run just in case this all blew up in his face.

Also the obvious flirting way that this person spoke was slightly killing him inside. Constant reminders to live your life was more than any normal acquaintance would say to him and Marco was 50 shades of flattered on most days the stranger was being especially sweet.

Getting outside the mob of students and making sure he didn’t trip over any of the shorter freshmen, Marco made his way to his locker. He hadn’t run over anybody getting there, the only confrontation coming from the scary blond punk that frequented the science building on more than one occasion that terrified most the students that spent their time around the large stone building. Marco didn’t know his name but he knew that the piercing in his eyebrow scared him for unknown reasons that he couldn’t explain one bit but running into him was embarrassing enough. Being only an inch or so taller than the other boy should’ve meant clear vision in front of him but after that turned out to be false hopes Marco sprinted past him – mumbling out a rushed apology – making sure to keep his eyes to himself.

He might have friends, but Marco was still the nerdy boy that spent his free lunches helping the teachers with getting copies and work done. Cutting close to disrupting the peace of variability in who belonged to what societal group was not something Marco was interested in doing these last few months left until cap and gown night.

 

* * *

 

Jean needed the book to study. He just needed to take a couple of pictures of the textbook so that he could study for the quizzes that might happen next week. Or maybe his homework needed definitions straight out of the book. It was hard to keep his reasoning straight but he still found himself walking towards that science building.

Class had just gotten out, the rush of students bumping and sliding against him kept the heat of early spring dripping down the nape of his neck and the feeling of claustrophobia irritated him so deeply. Just a few more months. Three more months and he won’t have to suffer through the hurricane of bodies trying to get to their next class. Thankfully, Jean had free period for his last class which meant the perfect amount of time to look over the AP Biology textbook to get some studying done.

Oh who was he kidding? He needed a damn name to assign to his grade savior and today would hopefully be the day. He’d tried to get out of his last class as fast as possible – pretty much sprinting out the door the second the bell had rung – but the distance between the math building and the science building was too much to catch up with the now emptying classroom.

He’d only gotten to the hall leading to the door when a sudden disturbance in his mission jarred him out of his head. He couldn’t remember what the kid’s name was or if he was even in his grade but there he was, suddenly slamming into Jean, almost knocking him over into the already crowded halls. He lets it go over the urgent need to find that damned book and hopefully catch a glimpse of the person that sets it down on the stack in the back of the room. With a turn on his heels, he leaves the already sprinting-away boy to his own devices and walks into the biology lab.

He finds and digs through the stack and finding book #17 real quick, he sets it down on an empty lap station and flips to the chapter summary they’d been working on last class. He skims the margins, chuckling at the idiotic definitions his book partner had left for him to make studying easier until he finally got to his own set of ink with pencil markings scribbled quickly underneath it.

_“Marco”_

Jean whispers to himself, trying to hide his findings from Hanji’s usually preying ears, “Alright Marco. At least now I know you’re a boy.”

He realizes that there’s a chance that the name could be a dud; a lie in the lines of science. But it didn’t matter because even a lie was another step forward in finding out who this kid was. He had a three month time frame in figuring it out and he was going to use it to its full potential. Jean shuts the book, consciously forgetting to take pictures of the pages he might need and out on a mission to find the boy. He’s about ready to throw the book on the stack and leave when the idea hits him and slams the text back onto the lab station and digs an old pencil out of the bottom of his bag.

“I’d tell you mine but I’m not that generic”

Jean leaves it at that and throwing his pencil back in his bag and shouldering the bag over his shoulder, he leaves the classroom towards the library where most of the seniors spent their time during free periods. He never usually went inside, rather spending it outside shooting the breeze and cloud watching for the next 90 minutes. Studying was an option but it wasn’t necessary when he had such great notes to look off of in the only difficult class he’d signed up for his senior year.

XXXXX

It took a couple of days to get a response back on Wednesday that week. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to get so eager in writing down a response into the book but he’d let it go and soon enough found himself moving away from the name game in favor of those easy conversations. Jean hadn’t written his name down – his name was the only one of its kind and it wouldn’t be so hard to find that pretentious-looking French kid in their class. He’d come to the new high school late in the game, only having started at Trost his junior year. And most people feared his strong demeanor enough to stay away but there were the few that knew who he was. People that – on good days – Jean could call a friend. And on other days he referred to as mere acquaintances.

Pen in hand, flittering across the pages of the old textbook, Jean spent most of class writing down little notes and helpful hints to what would be on the midterm.

“memorize this”

“fuck that”

“basically jack off to this so you won’t forget it ever”

“scientific method whyyy”

“this is like 9th grade bio oh gawd”

He’d gotten a few responses from the day before. Quick little quips back at his sarcastic comments on certain subjects but all of that was white noise in their little tête-à-tête exchange. The second he’d gotten into the classroom two days later, Jean had grabbed his assigned book and spent his first few minutes before class started pouring over the page where that wonderfully, precious conversation had changed the game.

Written under his response to Marco’s name was a small little question mark. The lightness in the pencil’s pressure made it seem as though there was uncertainty in whether he should even respond to Jean’s rudeness and it made Jean himself snicker quietly to himself at the image of some stranger looking down bewildered for getting such a response.

Feeling risqué, Jean takes the next step. Today was Wednesday which meant that by tomorrow afternoon, Hanji would be wrapping up the chapter they were going over before their midterm next week. This was his chance to get what he really needed in the name of study sessions and totally not anything more. Flipping to the end of this chapter, Jean lets his pen hover over the header of the chapter’s summary page. This was all of nothing and Jean wanted it all. He needed a study partner and having someone to text when he got stuck on a certain part would be beyond helpful.

“am I allowed to have a number? ya know. just in case I have a question”

There was only hoping that everything would work out well and that this didn’t blow up in his face. Jean hoped that the sentiment was the same on the other side of this exchange because the blush that was threatening to turn his ears a different shade of red was something he didn’t appreciate and he hoped having a cellular way to talking to this person would make conversation easier. Asking for someone’s number via textbook was a new low on the flirting game but the circumstances were situational and special in this case and he didn’t really care. As the bell rang for lunch to start, Jean made sure to place the book carefully on the stack, making sure it wouldn’t get lost in the sea of students staying back to study some more.

XXXXX

Thursday. Judgment day.

The nerves that’d been growing in the pit of his stomach all day had turned Jean sluggish and the fact that lunch was still a 90 minute lecture away led him to slowly make that death march from English class to the science building. He was one of the last few to walk through the door and grabbing his textbook, making sure no one grabbed his book at the bottom of the stack, Jean made his way to his seat where he sat and stared at the stupid mystical looking wisps of fog curling towards the word “BIOLOGY” written in all caps. He was excited to see any sort of response from the mystery person but the chance of rejection was so high it snipped at his enthusiasm second by second.

Deciding to take that plunge as he’s been doing for the last few months of their snail-mail version of texting, Jean flipped open the book and took his time to carefully turn to the page he was seeking.

There wasn’t anything written underneath his pen markings. The ink was smeared from where he’d snapped it closed before letting the blue veiny writing dry thoroughly but there was nothing under it to quell Jean’s worry. He felt disappointed and horrible for possibly ruining a good thing for all of fifteen seconds before he noticed the small slip of binder paper crammed into the book’s binding crevice. His hand snatched it so quickly like he was chasing fireflies in his backyard and he almost punched himself in the face as he brought the little slip of paper up to his face to read.

A number was scrawled in that shaky handwriting he recognized so well, a name he’d been repeating internally for the past two days scratched underneath it to accompany the solo quest for connection.

The noise that left Jean’s mouth was high-pitched and sounded too whiny and needy for any kind of public setting but all he could do was slap a hand over his mouth and he rocked in his chair, too giddy for his cool-looking exterior – his piercing-clad eyebrow rising into his hairline in excitement as the tips of his ears heated the helix piercings he’s had for years.

He really needed to chillax about this whole thing. It was just a number. A simple phone number that he would be using only when he needed help with studying for midterms next week. He doubted he shared a class with the owner of the ten digits but AP Biology was enough of a subject to warrant constant texts asking about the life structure of the common, garden worm. Abso-fucking-lutely.

Jean pulled out his phone, a couple minutes still left before Hanji finally settled herself into the class period and had taken her assigned-seat attendance. Opening a new message prompt, Jean typed in the ten digits, saving it really quickly with the name “Biology Bae” for his own purposes, and stared down at the empty text box that blinked back up at him.

What the hell was he supposed to say? Should he greet them with a super cheesy “hey” or was that too informal for their school-focused setting? Would the guy even have his phone turned on during class or would he be the type of nerd that shut it off and only brought it out of the depths of his backpack during breaks?

Throwing a big “fuck this” fit inside his head and letting the phone fall flat on the counter, Jean swipes his fingers around the sleek screen of his android – typing in a quick message and hitting send before he thought about it for too long.

“Hey. Stranger danger still applies even if we are seniors ya know”

Jean stares at his phone, breathing in really deep but not loud enough for his tablemates to hear him hyperventilating as he sees the three little dots show up under his message, feeling them super hardcore judging him.

_“I am in class shush”_

Jean relaxes into his seat. Way more relaxed at the light tone of the reprimand. He’s so used to the sarcasm he received back for his own stupid comments, there was no worry that this person was going to be a fun person to talk to when he got bored.

And oh did Jean get bored a lot during the day.

Most of their conversations were useless one. A couple of questions that actually applied to the AP Biology lectures or on the homework assignments that were due right before exam day that Jean hadn’t even touched in the last week. This person must’ve had some kind of in with the teacher because on a fairly few moments in their conversation, mentions of future class experiments and projects had come up and turned their conversation to a mess of grumbling and bitching about science and how there couldn’t possibly be this many types of bugs in the world.

Neither of them really talk about those aspects of school that involved something other than a textbook. Friends were never mentioned and class periods and annoying teacher stories were kept to the minimal and were brought up if only necessary to make a point away from the personal days. There was still so much uncertainty in their friendship and budding ‘relationship’ and Jean didn’t want to ruin something good. So he kept conversations on how their day was going rather than news the pertained to his friends.

He mentioned a couple time about the weird, nerdy looking boy that always managed to run into him and stare uncomfortably long at his face. He didn’t let the person on the other end of the phone know that it was probably because of the piercings and scowl that always graced his face. That would make guessing his identity way too easy. So he usually let the conversation drop and let the other person talk about the ways that he thought this guy he ran into at the mall looked rather decent with his eyebrows pierced and Jean would chuckle into his phone at the irony.

Plus one for Jean!

By late April their conversations had turned to a more _interesting_ direction. Post midterms and stress eating in the middle of the night meant a lot of staying up into the late hours of the night and that led to a lot of blurry texting where none of his words made sense but it made just the right amount of sense to keep an awkward back and worth going between them into the early morning hours. It’d mostly come to fruition the night Jean had asked for a bit of proof that the person he was texting was in fact of the make variety and not just some stinky girl trying to catch him being a fool. That led to a similar request on his behalf which led to a lot of odd pictures trying to show he is a bro without ultimately sending the dude a dick pic. This Marco on the other hand was completely fine with the terms of friendship and Jean around the hours of midnight and 1 AM found himself staring down at an impressive and drool-inducing happy trail dipping into the worn elastic of what looked like grey sweats.

Giving another big ‘fuck it all” Jean gave the boy the proof he deserved after supplying him with all the evidence he could possibly want at the moment. Shirt taken off and camera ready to go, Jean was just ready to snap the picture when a notification buzzed in for another text. He pulled the phone back up to his face and swiped the bar down to read it, snorting at the cuteness.

_“Oh god! Why did I do that?? You don’t have to reply I’m just really tired!”_

Jean could grace the boy with a simple textual reply but the urge to get the sexual out of the way, he backed out of the notifications and taking the slightly blurry picture of his chest, the piercings on his collarbones and nipples glinting in the flash of the light in the dark room, and sent it straight back to Marco. He waited a couple seconds for a reply – knowing full well that the boy had most definitely not given up his death grip on the phone. His phone vibrated in his hand as he let the screen go dark waiting for Marco to finish typing his reply.

_“Okay. So we’re both definitely boys.”_

_“I like your piercings”_

                “We are. Now isn’t that a damn amazing thing?”

                _“It is. So um”_

                “I’m not sending you a dick pic”

                _“I WASN’T ASKING FOR ONE”_

“I know lol. Just covering the bases”

_“you’re horrible”_

“very much true yes. at least my piercings make someone swoon”

_“I am NOT swooning”_

“I never said it was you. now I’m gonna just have to believe you’re swooning over there”

“stop that”

“and I can’t stop. I won’t stop”

“oh my god. this is why I don’t do late night texts”

“oh please you love me. and it’s not like we’re not having a good time so shush”

“hm”

“very good”

Idiotic conversations in the middle of the night, bordering on the tightrope of sexting, soon enough led into the days of early May. One month away from graduation and the farthest that Jean had gotten was the smallest of hints that Marco might’ve sorta gotten off to that first picture Jean had sent to the boy of his chest. It might’ve been a total assumption and a wrong one at that, but the thought left Jean needing more. He needed to figure out a way to get the damn boy in front of him without there being any awkwardness. Texting someone was different than having to finally come face-to-face with them. There were certain things that could blow up in their faces. Like the fact that he had no idea if the boy would think Jean was cute in any way. And if he didn’t, then what the hell was the point, really?

Marco still doesn’t even know his name for fucks sake.

School moves on though. Tests keep both boys busy and although Jean feels that surge and can feel it coming from the other boy, neither of them make that jump to search out who their mystery friend was. Jean just really wants to see the face that that wonderful happy trail under horrible lighting belonged to and Marco yearned to just grab a name. He constantly texted the blond, asking for his name or a hint of any kind to make the connection between mutual friends. But Jean never gave him any leniency on who he could be. He couldn’t possibly explain why he kept the secret up for so long, why he never just given the boy a name. It was probably the euphoria he felt at anonymity that he didn’t want to lose. Either way, he kept that part of him to himself while the rest of him was open to any angle he could manage in the dim light of his open closet door while everyone in the house slept at 2 AM.

It’s only a few weeks before graduation, late March, when Jean finally gives up. He’s in the middle of Biology, on a beautiful Friday afternoon, when the sound of Hanji droning on about the homework packet that’ll be due at the end of the term as everyone else talked amongst themselves throws him over the edge. Things were ending and soon everyone would be graduating and moving on with their lives. They’ll be off to their various choices in colleges while Jean was left wondering about whether he’d just wasted months of time talking to someone and not making that step to seeing them in person.

As everyone went out and separated into their groups to work on their packets, Jean pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen – letting his fingers do the talking as his mind floated away into Wonderland.

“Meet me behind the bleachers off the baseball field after school. 3:15. Don’t be late”

He hit send, the nervousness crawling back up his throat and lodging itself into airway. It was getting hard to breath but the elation that filled him was what made up for it. His phone buzzed right away and it scared him for a second, doubt filling him for the few seconds it took him to unlock his phone. He smiled down at his phone at the response looking back up at him.

_“I won’t”_

XXXXX

Free period was absolute torture.

Jean wasn’t allowed to leave the general vicinity of the library what with a campus security guard constantly on his ass because of previous minor infractions and what that meant was a lot of whining and mobile gaming as he shot the breeze and waiting for 3 PM to roll around. He played around with the app store and somehow found himself downloading a game of ‘Frozen Ice Elsa Doctor’ before calling that quits and a waste of his phone’s data and went back to his usual cloud gazing.

Soon enough the bell rung and the hordes of students filled the hallways and grassy lawns of their open campus. Jean let the boy have the head start he needed to get out to the field. He also let himself hyperventilate like an idiot as everyone walked around his body leaned against the side of the library building. He most definitely looked like a pathetic idiot and he hoped the scowl and squinty eyes he shot at anyone that looked at him funny would get the message across that he wasn’t to be fucked with. He didn’t need to get in trouble for causing another fight like with that Jaeger kid last week when graduation was fast approaching right up against his ass.

His ass needed something other than homework packets, finals and authoritative figures grinding up against it.

The walk out to the field wasn’t long from where the library was. It was pretty far away from any of the buildings but the seclusion meant that a majority of the people making their way off campus would really have to be taking a detour to travel past the bleachers that lined the only baseball field their school had. Practice wouldn’t be on today – Fridays usually meant travel days to away games during the last few months of the school season. Marco would be the only one there if everything worked out well and he actually showed up.

He’d show up. He said he would. The instant reply to Jean’s request meant that he was ready and eager to do so, right?

Self-doubt filled his mind as he got closer and closer to the track that lined their football field. There were a couple of stragglers hanging around. Mostly couples that wanted to make-out in peace under the blaring sun and a few cheerleaders and football players getting prepared for practice but Jean ignored them as he kept his pace towards the far away field.

The figure that stood behind the metal steps that led up to oblivion had his back turned around but Jean could recognize the way the shoulders tensed and his backpack drooped off his left arms from months of seeing it run off away in fright. It was the kid that kept running into him in the halls and seemed to always be surrounded by that dumbass Eren Jaeger and his crew. Why the fuck did this kid have to show up now? When all he wanted to see was Mar-

“Shit.”

The boy seems to hear him across the few meters that Jean’s left between them. He watches the way the darker boy’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he watches Jean standing there with his mouth hung open – ready to catch any spring bugs that decided to show up. The boy had the freckles that parroted the ones Jean had memorized into his long-term memory from the one picture that had been intimate enough to give that information to him. Even the skin tone, a dark bronze that emphasized the foreignness to the boy’s ethnicity emulated those pictures Jean had saved to every device he owned.

Jean’s staring. So hard.

Marco seems to be saying words. Something muttered about meeting someone there and that he can leave if he needs to. There was something about not meaning to impose on his private space since he didn’t know that Jean didn’t give a fuck about the baseball field’s rusty bleachers. He doesn’t heed his words as he lets the words fall out of his own mouth – too amazed to actually think about all those days he left the boy in the halls with a scowl on his face not giving two shits that there was something behind his eyes that caught his attention every time he looked up at him.

“You’re Marco?!” he nearly yells at the freckles on the face in front of him.

“Yeah and you’re Jean, right? Armin told me about how you always get in a tiff with his boyfriend Eren,” Marco responds his tone a bit harsh. His eyes are darting over Jean’s shoulder – looking for something. Looking for someone he expected to be far nicer probably. Just as Jean had expected Marco to do.

“Holy shit. You’re Marco!” he yells even louder. At this pace, someone would probably notice the loud gestures Jean’s throwing into the air between them. But he could care far less when the damn pain in the ass of a boy was standing right in front and had been there in the backgrounds of his day for months. The revelation is dramatic but god how stupid could he be not to notice the way the dots on Marco’s face resembled his memories.

“Have you lose your senses of something? Do I need to call an ambulance? Are you having, like, a mental episode because I know I want to be a nurse but I have no training at all and-” Jean cuts him off before he lets Marco finish.

“You little fuck. Why didn’t you tell me I should be picturing a freckled dick to match that freckled face?”

Marco’s taken aback slightly. He steps back against the chain-link fence surrounding the field as Jean inches closer to his face, leaning forwards into the taller boy’s body. “Um. What are you-”

Jean makes that final plunge. He lunges forward, letting his shoes slide against the green grass as he pins himself onto Marco and crashes his face against the boy. Marco stiffens under him, his hands gripping tight onto Jean’s jacket as he tries to get himself to push away. Jean feels the way the boy latches on harder to his sleeve and pulls away slightly letting his lips hover just slightly over Jean’s lips. “You’re-” Jean doesn’t let him finish, sealing his mouth with another kiss and letting his drown in the feeling of soft lips on his.

He nods his head enthusiastically against him, Jean’s lips flitting up into a small smile as he presses them even closer to Marco. This time Marco accepts the offer and within a few seconds he’s pushing back against Jean’s form and moving his grip from the sleeves to Jean’s thin waist. He pulls Jean in closer, letting his back rest fully against the fence and at the touch of Jean’s tongue licking its way into his mouth, he opens himself to the blond.

Jean drowns himself in the feeling of Marco all around him. The months of tension that had built itself inside the pits of his stomach thanking him for the freedom to flood itself into every part of his body. Jean could feel his blood flowing through his entire being, tingling the tips of his fingers and letting his toes wiggle inside of his shoes as he pressed himself harder against Marco, trying to get just the bit more out of the moment. He could feel the blood rush down towards more dangerous regions but the heavy weight pressing against the front of his body told him that it was going to be just fine as the two of them hid behind the rows of seats.

Hands were grabbing out at any body part they could reach, fumbling against cheap plastic zippers and the chilling metal button clasps. It was a fight to get the most out of the small time they had behind the bleachers before someone shows up looking for a stray baseball or whatever and instead finds them in various stages of naked. Jean feels the warm skin underneath Marco’s long-sleeved flannel soon enough and it stirs the inside of him even more and any blood that had been making its way up to feed his brain shot itself straight down to the slightly growing hard-on he was sporting in his dark jeans.

Someone’s hands were dragging down the inside of the small space between their bodies. Jean had no concept of even himself as he felt the pressure against his stomach going down lower. A hand, that Jean realizes must be Marco’s at this point, palms at his front, firm fingers squeezing against his dick as he felt himself unconsciously grind up against the hand. The back of Marco’s hands must’ve also been rubbing against himself because soon the quiet that had flooded the small, dark space was full of whining and heavy breathing as they both with thrusts in synchronization.

But it’s not enough. It’s enough Jean that’s for sure as he feels himself edging closer to that cliff’s ledge looking over a pool of freckles with the greatest brown eyes; but it couldn’t possibly be enough for the other person as Jean keeps his eyes closed to keep track of the height his voice was reaching dangerously loud.

Marco was still pressed hard against the fencing – the metal more than likely digging little crescent shapes in the boy’s back – and the perfect position allows him to push against the boy’s shoulders further away as he slides down low on him as he mouths down his perfect jawline to his neck and further down.

Jean settles himself on his knees and it must be like a lightbulb switching on for Marco as his lust-heavy eyes snap open and his spine twists lower to grab onto Jean’s shoulders, trying to drag him back up to him. “Jean- don’t.”

Jean shakes his head up at the boy. His smiles so wide it feels like it could crack under the pressure that’s building inside of him and twitching his hips. Marco gets the look that’s blazing out of his eyes and he gives a quick nod of the head at Jean’s questioning look and Jean dives right in.

The button of the  off-brown shade of khakis in front of him was so endearing but they were certainly in the way as Jean tried to pop it open and slide the zipper down all the way to its end. With a hasty turn on his wrist, Jean drags the pants down to the freckly ankles in front of him; his other hand going up to trace the outline bulging out of dark-toned boxers. Marco whimpers into his open palm, trying to stay quiet and Jean wanted to drag that hand down and let those thin fingers glide through his hair, scratching at his scalp, but they needed to be quiet if they wanted to keep the heat of the moment turned up. He let Marco groan into his own hands as he hunched forward, back arching back and forth against the clinking chain fence behind his head.

Jean hasn’t even brought his face up to the boy’s hardening and he’s already got him falling apart in his hands. Jean smirks to himself as he stares straight into Marco’s crotch, trying to figure out just how he’s going to take this new experience. He’s given blowjobs of course but this was Marco and he knows what the happy trail leading down to the main prize looked before he’d even got a glimpse of the face that went with it.

Jean gripped harder onto the person in front of him and watched as Marco squirmed in his hands, hips twitching, as he let his other hand slide to the back of the waistband of the boxers and letting it slide down his legs to meet the same fate of his khakis.

His anticipation pauses for the second he takes to just stare at Marco. He’s beautiful. The way his eyes flutter on his cheeks as he looks down at Jean sitting back on his knees in front of him makes Jean heart turn to mush inside. He dragged a finger down the length of Marco’s dick, eyes never straying from Marco’s. He soaks his mind with the image of Marco writhing in his hands more violently and Jean licks his lips as he wonders why he never noticed the boy enough to have been doing this weeks ago. The thought of missed opportunities wasn’t going to invalidate this moment, though, and with that need pressing onto his lower body, Jean leaned in and wrapped his mouth around Marco’s width.

Marco stiffened underneath him again, his entire body arching in slow motion as Jean dragged a tongue against the underside of Marco’s dick. The guy was way bigger than Jean had expected, his throat not nearly as capable of taking his entire length, so raising his hand he tried to best to rectify for the loss. Marco doesn’t seem to care either way, too drowned out in his own head of bliss as he grips one hand in Jean’s hair as the other claps over his mouth – his eyes shut tight.

Jean kept his mouth working against Marco, trying to get as close as he can to digging his nose straight into the line of hair that he’s been wanting to drag nail down for weeks. He lets his hands drag up Marco’s body and he digs those fingers into the curve of Marco’s hips and dragging them down, etching light red lines everywhere he can get to. His hands moved towards the fence, gripping onto the cool metal as he pulls his face closer to Marco, trying to take more of him in, his tongue still working as his teeth slowly graze up and down the length of him.

Jean feels himself growing harder as Marco’s moans get louder and louder in the quiet of afterschool hours. The urge to palm at himself is there but his attention is full-fledged onto the sounds of Marco whining about being close. He instead relishes in the whine escaping his mouth, vibrating the dick inside of him, as Marco’s grip hardens in his head, finger gently scratching and digging into his scalp. The noise that elicits thrills Jean more and he moans around him again, feeling Marco twitch his hips closer to Jean, scraping himself at the back of Jean’s throat.

Marco comes really loudly. It’s stifled behind the hands he’s slapped his mouth with but it’s still throaty and loud and it rattles the chain fence behind his head as he shakes hard from the orgasm. His breaths are heavy as Jean lets go of the now limp dick in front of him, licking his lips off of the remnants of cum dribbling down his chin. Jean swipes the back of his hand over his mouth as he stands up to face Marco. He drags the boy’s pants along with him as he stands, seeing as how wrecked Marco seems to be and the boy must have a horrible reaction time as his breathing is still as labored.

He hooks the waistband over the pools of freckles scattered across thin lips and lets his hand rest in their small pockets. Marco’s breathing is slowly getting better, his wheezing slowing down to just the occasional deep breath but the smile that graces his lips, eyes slightly lazy as his gaze dazes in and out of focus makes Jean’s heart flutter.

He lets the boy relax, lets him take his time as he just stands there in front of him, watching the bliss across Marco’s face. He desperately needed to get off himself, his jean’s zippers straining under the pressure was irritating, but it wasn’t on the top of his mind over how dopey Marco looked leaned back on the fence, hands glancing over the bit of skin peeking out from over his waistband. He could take care of himself later. He would most definitely do it later and he hoped he wouldn’t be alone in the process as rested his chin against Marco’s chest.

Besides, it’s not like he could fight biology from happening.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote really tame smut! Praise the lord!!
> 
> Leave comments and kudos. I really appreciate the feedback!
> 
> I have a really great [beta](http://archiveofourown.org/users/acemockingjay/)  
> who I beta for and it's a beta festival 
> 
>  
> 
> [Nick's tumblr](http://acemockingjay.tumblr.com/)  
> [tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)


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